


Damn, Damn, the Circumstance (Bleed a Little While Tonight)

by imawalkingtravesty



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Awesome James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Awesome Pepper Potts, Depression, Gen, Good Peter, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Tony Stark, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Kid Peter Parker, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Panic Attacks, Parent Tony Stark, Pepper Potts Is a Good Bro, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Precious Ned Leeds, Precious Peter Parker, Protective James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Protective Pepper Potts, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, References to Depression, Self-Harm, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Angst, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Is Not Helping, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, Tony Stark-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-04 11:49:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20470547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imawalkingtravesty/pseuds/imawalkingtravesty
Summary: “Do you think he hates me?”“Hates you? Are you kidding me?”“I don’t know, man, Mr Stark yelled at me and then he stopped inviting me over,” Peter voiced his concern. “It’s been two weeks.”In which Tony Stark is a self-destructive mess and Peter Parker is here to save the day.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "If you’re interested, I have a fic idea. Have you read all these irondad fics where Tony finds out Peter is depressed/self-harming? Well... I haven’t seen any where it’s the other way around."
> 
> Huge thanks to Nino, someone who commented on my last fic, for this idea. This is for you <3

As soon as Tony opened his eyes, he knew it would be a bad day.

He lifted his head up from his desk, and looked at the time; eight AM. He hadn’t slept much, considering he slept sitting up, and there was a cramp in his neck along with a headache. He just felt sick, and there was a sinking hole in his chest that meant that it was also one of his depressing days.

“Good morning, boss. You have a meeting at eleven, and Mr Parker will be visiting at three. It is currently 42 degrees fahrenheit and cloudy, and will rain in the afternoon,” FRIDAY informed him.

“Thanks FRI,” Tony nodded, groaning as he wiped a hand across his face. He was a mess. “Will Pep be at the meeting?”

“Yes. She will be arriving shortly to pick you up with Mr Hogan.”

Tony sighed in relief. Pepper would make it more tolerable. She understood his bad days, knew how to make them better, and heck, he enjoyed her company. She made him a better person, considering she actually had common sense.

He slowly got up from his chair, muscles aching the entire time. Each step to the elevator felt like agony, and all he wanted to do was stay in his workshop and work or fall asleep on the couch. He didn’t have the energy to pull up the metaphorical mask that he put on whenever he felt like this, but he knew that after a coffee, he’d feel a bit better.

Tony got cleaned up, showered, and put on his new suit. Just as he was straightening the tie in front of the mirror, Pepper entered the room, holding two cups of Timothy’s coffee.

“Hey, honey,” she pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Is that coffee for me?” Tony asked hopefully.

“Good morning, Pepper. Hello, Pepper,” she said sarcastically, but smiling all the same, handing him a cup. Tony embraced the warmth of the cardboard in his hands, breathing in the scent.

“Thanks,” he took a short sip, testing the temperature.

“You almost ready to go?” she asked, sitting in the wicker chair that usually held all of Tony’s ties until Pepper yelled at him to clean it up.

“Yeah,” Tony answered, putting down the coffee on a shelf and grabbing a suit jacket. “How was Florida?”

“Hot. Humid,” she smiled, staring at Tony through the mirror. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too,” he shrugged on the jacket and grabbed the coffee again. “How do I look?” he asked, spinning around, letting the jacket lift up around him.

“With your eyes,” she smoothed out a few wrinkles, smirking slightly at her own joke. “Anything you should grab?”

“I’ve got the USB here,” he patted his jacket pocket. “Starkpad here,” he patted his breast pocket. “I think I’m good.”

“Happy’s waiting for us,” she brushed a few strands of hair out of his face. “You feeling okay?”

“I’ve been better,” he admitted, nodding.

“Did you sleep okay?” Pepper asked, her eyes calm and soothing,squinting slightly in concern.

“I couldn’t. Went down to work, and fell asleep at the desk,” he whispered, letting the facade fall. Just for Pepper.

“You’re okay,” she whispered, squeezing his shoulder.

He put a hand over hers and squeezed, then headed out to the car. Happy had the heat on and the seat warmers turned up, so it was like stepping into a sauna. The windows were fogging up, and it had a heavy feeling to the air.

“Jesus, Happy, you trying to bake us?” Tony joked, putting the mask back on. He was fine.

“Sorry,” Happy turned down the heat, just enough so they weren’t going to pass out. “Any music requests?”

Tony didn’t answer, so Pepper took liberty in choosing the music. “Best of Elton John.”

“You and that man,” Tony said, pulling the seat belt across him.

“He makes good music!” Pepper said defensively. “I won’t leave you for him, if it makes you feel better.”

Tony just smiled and turned to face out the window. The car started, and they pulled out of the parking lot to Rocketman booming from the speakers.

Tony couldn’t help but notice how much the grey sky reflected his feelings.

\--

The meeting was decent. The company that they were partnering with was very cooperative, which made everything much easier on the negotiating and prices and the like. Pepper seemed very pleased with the outcome, but Tony literally could not care less.

He just wanted to go home and hide in his workshop, beating the shit out of something with a hammer while AC/DC blares from the speakers.

“Boss, Mr Parker is arriving in one hour,” FRIDAY reminded him once he was safely in his workshop, his suit and tie discarded in a chair.

“Oh, god,” Tony sighed, throwing on one of his band t-shirts. He had forgotten about the appointment he’d made with the kid, and all he wanted to do was call him to say that something came up and he wouldn’t be able to have Peter over. He just wanted to be alone today.

But he didn’t have the heart to cancel it. Happy had sent screenshots of the text exchange in between him and the kid, and Pete had seemed so happy, texting in only capital letters and a whole bunch of unnecessary exclamation marks. He was so happy just to have someone relay the information that he was invited to the compound to work on new suit upgrades, and Tony, no matter his public image, would never break the kid’s heart like that.

So, Tony went upstairs and grabbed the entire instant coffee container. He’d need it to keep up with Peter’s seemingly unending supply of energy. Literally. Even listening to the voicemails he leaves Happy makes Tony wonder how much sugar the kid had eaten before sending it.

He glanced at the time; he still had a good thirty minutes before Peter would make an appearance. Tony just cleared off a space of counter (by literally swiping his hand across the entire thing and shoving random bits of machinery into drawers) and called it Peter’s working space. Whatever the kid wanted upgraded, he could work on himself, and hopefully Tony could summon up a bit of resilience and tell Peter to only ask him for help if he absolutely needed it. Tough love, right? That’s how people build character, teaches kids how to become independent.

Nah, that was too much like his dad.

In no time at all, just as Tony had started on his own personal project (getting rid of dents on the arm of his suit by attempting to hammer them out but really only causing more dents in the process), FRIDAY announced that Mr Parker was at the door.

“Let him in,” Tony put down the hammer and summoned as much energy that he could.

“H-hi, Mr Stark, sir,” Peter grinned up at him, and Tony found himself smiling for real. Happiness was contagious.

“Hey, Pete. You got your suit?” Tony asked, and Peter nodded, pointing to his backpack. “Well, I’ve got a few upgrades that I need to plug into it, and then once those are loaded, you can code anything else you’d like into it. If you need any instruction, feel free to ask, and make sure I go over anything new you write in just in case. Any questions?”

“What’s the software?” Peter asked, taking his suit out.

“Notepad plus plus. Have you used it before?” Tony took the suit from Peter, plugging it into the computer on the space that he cleared for him.

“Yeah,” Peter said. “At our school. We have to make robots and stuff and everything.”

“Alright. FRIDAY, update the suit. Pete, code whatever you want. I just need to work out some dents in the armour and then, well, we’ll figure out something to do if we have time,” Tony turned back to his armour, grabbing his hammer once again and hitting it repeatedly. AC/DC turned back on, and once Tony looked up again, Peter was hard at work, fingers flying as he worked on upgrading something.

Tony reattached several plates together that had fallen out in his latest escapade, and zeroed in on his work. There were several times he had forgotten that the kid was here, as Peter mostly kept to himself and Tony got so absorbed in his work that it was only once Peter started muttering to himself that he looked up in surprise and remembered that he had a guest over.

“But if I do that, then, no, that’s not going to work,” Peter said softly, scrolling through the long list of code. “But if I change the variable to-”

“You have to put in the percentages,” Tony said, suddenly appearing beside Peter.

“Jesus Christ!” Peter jumped, clutching his chest. “Don’t do that!”

Tony grinned. “I’m not Jesus, but we’re frequently compared,” he joked, then read over the line of code Peter was working on. “You just have to change the ‘if-then’ to ‘if-then-else’. Or else there won’t be any space to put in another exponent,” he explained. “And then put in the percentage of light you’d like filtered in during that ‘then’.”

“But how do I measure the amount of light that’s hitting the thing?” Peter asked, gesturing to the eyes of his suit. “I want it to be the same light all of the time, if I’m in broad daylight or if I’m inside.”

“Look it up. Here; FRIDAY, pull up the code on the stupid Apple product,” Tony gestured to another screen, and the code appeared on there. “Even though their phones suck compared to ours, they have a special sensor that senses how much light there is and adjusts the screen brightness to make sure that it’s comfortable for the consumer. Look for it in the code and copy it for your suit.”

“Does my suit have the sensor?” Peter asked, already starting on trying to find the line in the Apple code.

“No. But once you figure out what it is, I’ll find one for you,” Tony winked.

“But Mr Stark,” Peter whined.

“C’mon. You’re a smart kid, you’ll figure it out,” he clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You can do this.”

Tony returned to his usual table, fished out a small plastic box and put it aside for when the kid finally figured out what he needed to do. As he returned it is reassembling the suit, he realized that his heart felt lighter than it had that morning; and it wasn’t just the coffee that had made him feel better.

Goddammit, it was the kid.

Tony stole a quick glance at Peter, who held his face an inch away from the screen in order to read the script, and he grinned. The kid reminded him so much of himself as a young child, smart, always learning more, and always wanting to learn more. Tony saw the light bulb go off in Peter’s head, and he whipped around, turning to face Tony.

“I need some sort of photoelectric device!” he called out. “Then it measures the electrical signal and it can adjust accordingly!”

“Correct,” Tony picked up the little box that he had left out, and pulled out a thin strip of some sort of bendy material. He placed it on the desk beside Peter’s suit. “This is a special device; it’s flexible, so it can be placed anywhere. I recommend putting it near the eyes, because, well, that’s where you’re going to be looking out of, right? Unless you’re secretly more spider than I thought and you have six more eyes hidden somewhere.”

Peter eyed the tiny strip with two wires coming out of it, completely ignoring the joke. “How?”

“Here,” Tony grabbed some nearby tweezers and pulled out a wire, disconnected the two then braced it together with the device. He pushed the wires back in, pressing until it all seemed in place. “It’s connected to the wire powering the eyes; code accordingly.”

“But won’t it completely mess it up? If the signal is blocked by the device, then the eyes won’t receive power anymore,” Peter protested.

“Actually, it’s just an extra signal; it’s not an insulant. Feel free to add any extra wires if you don’t feel like telling your suit to ignore the extra signal until it reaches the main computer frame,” Tony shrugged. “Just remember that you’re going to have to figure out where to put them.”

Peter shook his head, biting his lip in concentration. “So I just have to add in the, the thing?”

“Yes, add in ‘the thing’,” Tony rolled his eyes, doing air quotation marks. “Just make a new event. You know how to do that.”

“Okay. Thanks for the help, Mr Stark,” Peter turned to face the computer, adding a new event. “So when this signal received, if signal greater than y is true, lower light to x percent? And vice-versa for the false?”

“You got it, kid,” Tony smiled, retreating to his suit to work. He soon fell back into the rhythm of the placing and testing and adjusting accordingly, but every once in a while he would turn and grin at the kid, who was hard at work.

Tony pulled up his calendar to see the next time he could schedule in Peter, already looking forward to the next visit.

\--

“Are you free tomorrow afternoon? We’re in dire need of cleaning out the others’ rooms,” Pepper asked Tony as they both got ready for bed.

It was a rare time when Pepper wasn’t at the office, and Tony wasn’t at his workshop. Heck, it was only ten, this was probably a record bedtime. He hadn’t gone to bed before eleven in ten years, it seemed.

“Can’t- the kid’s coming over,” Tony shook his head. “Also, just keep the rooms as is. We don’t need to clean them out.”

“Peter’s coming over? For the second time this week? It’s been like, the fifth time you’ve invited him over this month,” Pepper raised an eyebrow, but Tony could tell that she was happy for him. He had found a distraction other than alcohol.

“Yeah. He’s, well, I don’t know. He’s good for me, I think. It helps. It’s been way too empty around here since what happened with the accords, and Pete just makes it better,” Tony tried to explain.

“Do you think we’ll ever be able to clean out their rooms, then? With Peter as your therapist?” Pepper teased, but he could tell she was somewhat serious.

“Why do you want them gone so much?” Tony asked, his tone accusing.

“We could make room for more people; maybe we could actually hire interns and house them in those spaces. I just don’t think that keeping Steve Rogers’s room as is, collecting dust, is the most efficient way to grieve,” Pepper explained, and Tony flinched; they had avoided saying their names since the big mess that was made.

“I’m not grieving. I never was grieving,” Tony protested, forcing his face back into his usual impassive self.

“Sure, you weren’t,” she said sarcastically. “I don’t mean to be miss pessimist over here, but do you really think they’re going to come back?”

Tony was silent, pulling the covers around him, staring up at the ceiling. He honestly didn’t know what to think.

He missed the team. He missed being apart of something, especially something that had received much praise and was practically worshiped around the world. He missed the team bonding Mario Kart games, Wii Sport games that always had them shouting at each other and ganging up to beat Captain America’s high scores. He missed having people to spot for him, to spar against, to train with. But then again, they had always seemed so distant with him than with each other, so it wasn’t really like he lost all that much.

Just his dignity. And his sense of family. And ninety percent of the friendships he thought he had.

Pepper kissed his temple. “It’s going to be okay.”

Tony nodded slightly, grabbing Pepper’s hand in his and bringing it to his lips. “G’night, Pep.”

“Goodnight.”

“Lights, FRIDAY,” he said, and the lights suddenly dimmed, leaving nothing but the glow from the housing casing of Tony’s suit that he could summon at any notice. It felt comforting, even though he knew that he probably didn’t need it in his home, but old habits die hard. It had taken a lot of convincing to be able to keep it at his bedside table, but Pepper finally gave in when he used the PTSD card. Not that he was proud of it.

Pepper had wound him up too much, and he knew that he wasn’t going to get his thoughts to quiet down anytime soon. It wasn’t her fault, she didn’t know about all of the times that he lay awake in bed, unable to fall asleep due to his train of thought going on the frickin’ Trans-Siberian railway without stopping. But honestly, talking about Steve Rogers before hitting the hay? That was bound to at least stir up some kind of memory to think about while he was supposed to be getting some shut-eye.

Tony waited another hour, until Pepper’s breathing had evened out and he was sure she was asleep, before getting out of bed. He made his way downstairs to the old common room, where there were open cases of video game DVD’s left out on various surfaces, mugs strewn about on the counter, and for the most part, it looked lived-in. But Tony knew that the mugs were probably stained with the old coffee and that all of the cases with mismatched discs were collecting dust. Everything had gone by too fast, and the room hung with the sort of heavy energy that Tony feels whenever he recalls a memory that feels lonely.

He sat in the chair that Steve used to sit in, the one that faces the window, and all of the city lights with all the noise and light pollution irks him somehow. It’s like he should be able to enjoy a quiet and clear night, but he can’t. All because of the human race developing and inventing and polluting while calling it advancing.

Tony suddenly realized why Steve sat here so often, even during those late nights and early mornings when Tony had gone up for more coffee and seen the shadowed figure just staring out of the window. When Captain America was younger, before the ice, he probably would’ve been able to see the stars and just hear the crickets of nature. But here, in the city where nothing ever stops, all he could see was the light from the buildings and the noise of the traffic below. Tony made a mental note to make some sort of planetarium dome where it could simulate being in the country before he remembered that Steve wouldn’t be there to enjoy it. It left an empty feeling in his chest.

“FRI, is Pete out patrolling?” Tony whispered, not trusting his voice to not crack.

“Yes,” his AI answered.

“Could you pull up a live video feed?”

“Of course, boss,” FRIDAY answered, and a hologram popped up on the table beside him, a dizzying view of buildings whipping by as Peter swung himself from building to building, finally resting on a roof, grabbing a bite to eat, before swinging down and fighting crime.

Tony fell asleep in the chair to the comforting thought that his kid was at least doing some good in the world.

\--

“Hey, kid. There’s Doritos on the counter. FRIDAY will help you locate things. I’ve got a deadline on this project, and as much as I love you, please don’t pester me too much,” Tony greeted Peter at the door.

After the first visit, they had fallen into a routine; Tony works on whatever project he has going on at that moment, and Peter upgrades his suit, adding whatever he thinks is necessary. He always makes a refill of web fluid, and every once in a while something explodes, but they’ve both learned that it’s nothing serious. Usually.

Tony could look up, mutter something while snapping his fingers, trying to remember what he needed, and Peter would look at him and say something like “Nitrogen and hydrogen. NH3.” and Tony would look at Peter, point to him, and say “Ammonia,” and Peter would nod, and then Tony would then add the chemical compound to his suit because that’s what Peter thought was missing and therefore it was missing. Also it helped that Peter had super-hearing and could hear what Tony was muttering and it happened to be that he brain-farted and forgot what cleaned titanium.

It was damn useful, and even though Peter was still young and naive and dare Tony say, ‘not as smart’ as Tony was, it was still great to have a lab partner ever since Brucie left.

The kid nodded, grabbed a handful of chips, and started working on the web fluid. Tony returned to his work, asked FRIDAY to play his playlist, and grinned when the song ‘Iron Man’ by Black Sabbath began to play.

She was advancing well; even though she was still relatively new compared to JARVIS, she learned quickly.

Tony returned to his work; he was trying to build smaller computers, smaller engines, smaller things in general so that his suit would, ultimately, be smaller. It also helped that it would revamp cars, phones, just about anything that moves and/or needs a battery. It would give things tons more space for other upgrades. As soon as he completed the prototype on the suit, and tested it to deem it safe, it could be adapted to be placed in pretty much any technology that Stark Industries produces.

He shoved his hand inside of his Iron Man suit to retrieve the prototype repulsor charging unit, but felt a sharp pain in his wrist as he did so. He immediately pulled his hand out, and hissed when whatever stabbed him the first time tore through his skin again.

“Fuck!” he yelled, clutching his bleeding arm. Peter glanced up at him in surprise. “I mean, fudge!”

“I go to high school, Mr Stark. I don’t mind swearing,” he said, looking at his arm that was rapidly turning red with blood.

“But you should. You’re twelve. Could you possibly hand me that towel there, Pete?” Tony asked, nodding his head in the direction of the towel sitting on his desk, blood already spilling over his arm, onto the ground. Whatever had cut him had cut him deep and vertically, but shouldn’t really be any cause for alarm. He’d done worse.

Peter grabbed the off-white towel (it used to be white, but there’s only so long it could stay that way in the company of an engineer) and placed it on Tony’s arm, mopping up the blood. Dum-E rolled around holding a first-aid kit and Peter startled.

“That’s Dum-E. He’s a dummy, but he’s generally harmless, unless he’s holding a fire extinguisher,” Tony awkwardly opened the first-aid kit with one hand and gave Dum-E a pat with his foot, and he rolled away.

“He’s like a dog,” Peter noticed, staring after it in wonder. “And you built it?”

“Yup. MIT years. Anyway, there’s something in the kit that says ‘butterfly bandages.’ Fish those out for me, could you?” Tony asked, pressing hard on the towel to put pressure on the wound. He folded it up, placing the towel only on the cut, hoping that it would stop the bleeding faster if it had more weight on it.

Peter found the bandages and placed it on the table. Tony gingerly removed the towel, making a face when the cut pooled with blood again. “This isn’t looking too good,” he noticed. “If those bandages don’t work, I’ll need stitches.”

“Mr Stark, what are those lines?” Peter asked innocently.

Tony looked down at what Peter was referring to, and his heart nearly stopped. The long-old scars left on his wrists from his teenage years were only visible to people specifically looking for them; how Peter had managed to spot them was at first surprising, then he remembered his heightened sight.

Tony pulled his wrist away from Peter, moving the bloody towel to cover his entire wrist and not just the cut. “It’s nothing. Just workshop accidents.”

“You sure? Those kinda look like,” Peter stopped. “Like-“

“Like cuts you’d get from reaching into heavy machinery?” Tony finished for him. “Which I do quite a bit?”

“But Mr Stark, they’re ladder cuts-“

“We’re not doing this,” Tony sighed, leaning back into his chair.

“But if you’re hurting yourself then-“

“Pete. Peter. Kid,” Tony covered his face with his non-bloody hand. “We’re not doing this. Not now. Not ever.”

“Mr Stark-“

“I think you should leave,” Tony removed the hand from his face and pointed at the door.

“But-“

“Now!” Tony yelled out through gritted teeth, and the kid just looked so sad and guilty that it kind of broke Tony’s heart.

“S-sorry,” Peter stuttered out, retreating to unplug his suit from the computer and hastily shoving it in his bag while he hurried out the door, not meeting Tony’s eyes.

Fuck.

The door closed with its usual click; but Tony has never heard it be so loud before.

And then he couldn’t breathe, dammit.

He discarded the towel, throwing it over his shoulder. He was still dripping blood, but that was a minor incident compared to what had just happened. He had yelled at the kid. He had ruined things with the kid. Oh god, the kid knows about, about the things he used to do, about the things he still did every once in a while when it all got too much.

Peter knows.

He huffed out a strangled sigh, ripping off his shirt and wrapping it tight around his arm. He’ll get medical attention later. When he’s calm. As in not now. Because his mind is too fast and all his thoughts are blurring together and he’s shaking, and he can’t breathe, because oh god, the kid knows. Nobody is supposed to know. Only Rhodey and Pepper know, and those guys took years to build up trust, and this kid comes around and breaks down every single wall Tony has built up since the beginning of time and figures it out before Tony is ready, because in all honesty Tony was never planning on telling Peter. Peter was not supposed to see this side of Tony.

His kid knows.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first of all, wow!  
I did not expect all this positive reception, and I love every single one of you. The comments make my day, my year, and thank you all so much!
> 
> This one is shorter, just a continuation of the last chapter, but there's heavy angst coming in the next one. Hope you like it!

“Do you think he hates me?”

Ned looked up at Peter in surprise. “Hates you? Are you kidding me?”

“I don’t know, man, Mr Stark yelled at me and then he stopped inviting me over,” Peter voiced his concern. “It’s been two weeks.”

When Peter had first told Ned that he got invited to work with Tony Stark on his ‘Spider-Man stuff’, Ned’s eyes had gotten so wide that Peter was half-convinced that they’d popped out of his head. Ned knew that Peter had met Mr Stark before, and had conversed with him, and even filmed an alibi video, but being invited over to work with Tony frickin’ Stark? That was practically like being best friends!

Ned had pestered his friend about details as soon as Peter returned home from the compound, always asking if Tony had let him touch the Iron Man armour, let him fire a repulsor and other things like that. And every time Peter would respond with “All we did was work on my suit.” and then maybe launched into some technicalities like the time that Tony showed him nano particles and tried to explain how it worked. 

“It’s like, say, osmium, or a neutron star. It’s very dense,” Tony had explained, showing him the watch he was trying to make that could extend into a repulsor. “If I use it correctly, it can expand and make whatever I want it to make.”

“So it’s like just getting gold and flattening it out?” Peter had said in wonder.

“Sort of. There’s also tons of other technicalities such as practically opening a portal, but we’re not going to go there yet.”

When Peter had told Ned about that, Ned practically had a brain aneurysm.

“I’m sure he’s just busy. What did he yell at you for?” Ned said, shrugging and reaching across the lunch table for Peter’s juice box.

“I was being nosy, and I found out something that I wasn’t supposed to know,” Peter sighed, letting Ned take his juice. 

“What was it? Was it some sort of technology not known to this world? Was it a project that could destroy the entire human race? Was it-”

“No! Ned, it was nothing like that,” Peter huffed. “I just… read something I wasn’t supposed to. Something about… stocks.”

“Well, if it’s only about the stock exchange, I’m sure he’s not mad at you,” Ned grinned. “He’s probably busy. With those… stocks.”

“Sure,” Peter sighed for the fifth time in one sitting. “But I really don’t know.”

“Don’t worry. All you have to do is get hurt during your patrolling thing, and he’ll come running! You have Karen, right? She’ll tell him! He can’t avoid you if you’re dying!” Ned offered an idea.

“That’s very manipulating, and I really don’t want to get hurt anyway. I think I’ll just wait it out,” Peter concluded just as the bell rang for their classes.

“My idea was way cooler, but whatever floats your boat, I guess,” Ned shrugged, crumpling up the juice box and throwing it in the garbage on their way out.

“Yeah. I guess,” Peter said skeptically, still longing to finish the upgrades.

And at the very least, make sure his mentor was doing alright.

\--

Tony couldn’t sleep. 

He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t think. Hell, he couldn’t even function. Every single thing he worked on just ended up being wrong and failing, and he couldn’t concentrate, and he just wanted to finally end it all.

Tony Stark was depressed. And if he could admit it to himself, that meant that it was really bad. 

Usually, Bruce would notice. Or Rhodey. But Brucie was off somewhere else in a stupid spaceship, or maybe even dead, who really knew, and Rhodey wasn’t going to be back for weeks. He was away on a business trip. Nevada. Somewhere like that, on the other side of the world.

Pepper. She was all he had left, and thankfully, thankfully, she had noticed. Maybe it had taken her a bit longer (but he had holed himself up in his work so it wasn’t like she saw him like Bruce or Rhodey did, it seemed like those guys checked on him every three hours), but he was grateful. He was too proud to admit to need help, so he had to wait for someone else to offer first. Tony knew it was stupid, but he just found that the words got stuck in his throat and his mouth got dry whenever he tried. It must’ve been from the less-than-adequate parenting of Howard Stark.

“I know you, that you,” Pepper sighed, trying to find the words without it being awkward. 

She had interrupted Tony’s work, but he wasn’t complaining. It was another failed attempt at making a stupid nano-computer. He just couldn’t get the file sizes to change without making the computer bigger, the amount of information still required space, unfortunately. He was mostly looking for a distraction.

“Spit it out, honey. Can’t get much awkwarder than this,” Tony waved his hand as if he didn’t care. 

“I know that you’re hurting yourself,” she blurted out. “Again.”

Tony sat down in his office chair, the seat spinning slightly to the left with the force. He didn’t say anything.

“And I thought I asked you to talk to me whenever you felt like that,” she continued, and if she didn’t sound so heartbroken, Tony would’ve thought that she was accusing him.

Tony rubbed his upper left arm, where the offending cuts were made hours earlier. They weren’t deep; he just wanted to hurt. To feel something. As the fabric rubbed against the healing scabs, they stung as if they’d been broken open again.

“I’m sorry,” Tony said softly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. 

“I’m not mad, I’m just,” Pepper walked around the desk to put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m just worried.”

“I’m okay, Pep,” Tony put his hand over her hand, patting it twice before squeezing it. 

“But you’re not okay. That’s the thing,” she said, her tone more urgent. “The sooner you admit it to yourself, the sooner you’ll feel better.”

“Pepper,” Tony said with grandeur, as if he was making an announcement. “I’m depressed.”

She stared at him for a moment, confusion written all over her face.

“Huh. I don’t feel better,” he noticed sarcastically. “So much for that theory.”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Pepper deadpanned, not really finding his sarcasm or tactics amusing.

“Then what do you mean?” Tony said, frustrated. “Because I’ve tried, okay? I’ve tried the pills. I’ve tried talking to people. But I just can’t get better.”

“You’ve talked to me. Rhodey,” she listed. “That’s two people.”

“Believe it or not, Brucie too. But it doesn’t help,” he stressed, rubbing his temples. 

“What about the kid? You liked him, you said he helped you. Call him. Tell him to come over,” Pepper offered, refusing to let herself get angry.

“I’m not pouring my heart out to a fifteen year-old,” he deadpanned.

“I’m not talking about that! Just see him. What happened in between you two anyway? Why did he just suddenly stopped coming?”

“Nothing. I just stopped inviting him.”

“Why?”

Tony didn’t answer, just continued to massage his temples as if this conversation was a serious waste of time.

“If it’s really nothing, I’m inviting him over. His name is Peter, right? Parker? I’ll just call his parents and ask if he could come,” Pepper said, with a tone of voice that suggested that she was going to do it anyway if he didn’t give her a reasonable answer.

“His parents are dead. He lives with his aunt,” Tony grimaced. 

“So you adopted him?”

“What? No!” he stood up defensively, shrugging Pepper’s arm off his shoulder.

“I’ll call his aunt. Ask if he can come over and work on something with you,” Pepper smiled slightly at Tony’s reaction to her joke, but it quickly disappeared when she saw how tense he had gotten. 

“No.”

“Seriously, what happened? One second you two are best friends, and the next you aren’t talking!”

“Look, Pep. He just can’t come over. Not anymore,” he balled his hands into fists. “He’s busy.”

“That’s bullshit.”

Tony looked up in surprise. Pepper rarely swore.

“Tony. What happened?” she tried again, her tone softer.  
“There was an accident,” Tony started, and then at the expression on Pepper’s face, he quickly retraced his steps. “I mean, I accidentally cut myself on metal. And he tried to help. And he saw the old scars, the ones from, y’know, and I-“ he stopped, shaking his head. “I freaked out.”

“Tony,” Pepper reached out to him, holding onto his shoulder again. 

“I told him to go, and he just wanted to help, and-“ he cut himself off, taking a breath. “The kid knows, Pep, and he shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m weak,” he sat back down, shielding his eyes with his hand. 

“That’s not weakness, Tony.”

“Is it not? Because I’m giving in. I’m running away,” he gritted his teeth, willing his hand down from his face and gripping the arms of the chair with tight fists. “I’m weak, Pepper.”

“You’re one of the strongest people I know,” she leaned forward, and he put his head on her stomach. She caressed his scalp, relieving tension, and no matter how gentle and loving the gesture was, he still couldn’t just feel okay. 

“Then you know very few people,” he sighed into her shirt. 

They stayed like that for a minute, until Tony had composed himself enough and pulled away.

“You know I’m still going to ask Mr Parker to come over,” Pepper said, giving his shoulder a squeeze before dropping her arms.

“I know,” he said softly.

“And you know it’s because I love you,” she said.

“I know,” he repeated. “I love you too.”

\--

“Hi.”

“Hi!” Peter exclaimed.

They stared at each other for a bit. 

“Come in?” Tony said, but it was more of a question. This was more awkward than he thought.

Peter seemed to be making a big show of staring straight ahead and not looking at anything, afraid that he’ll once again see something he’s not supposed to see. He logged onto the computer and pulled up the program, then plugged in his suit.

Usually, Tony would have an upgrade that he’d give the Spider-Man suit, but he’d been relatively unproductive and distracted while they held their weird grudges, so he just asked FRIDAY to run a bug check and diagnostics.

Peter just stood there while Tony shuffled around awkwardly, silence tense and heavy in the room. Usually Peter would be talking his head off, encouraged by Tony’s head nods and notes of surprise or humour at the appropriate moments, but the kid didn’t speak and it made them both uncomfortable.

“How was school, kiddo?” Tony asked finally, pulling out the USB that held the diagnostics from the suit that held Peter’s performance levels, methods of fighting, etc. It would help him with future upgrades and it made him feel nice, sort of like a proud parent. Not that Peter was his kid or anything.

“Fine,” Peter answered plainly, and didn’t elaborate. His face was expressionless.

Tony smiled awkwardly and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. “What do you plan on upgrading?” he said in a weak attempt to keep the conversation going.

“There’s really nothing to do, it’s perfect, Mr Stark,” Peter said quietly, lacking his usual energy. “You’ve thought of everything.”

“Oh, I beg to differ. But if you want, pull up FRIDAY’s code and debug the file called ‘protocol ABITHAD.’ It’s new. Gives FRIDAY the ability to call a doctor when my diagnosis is very, very wrong or I’m actually in dire need of medical attention.”

“What does it stand for?”

“Another Blithering Idiot Thinks He's A Doctor,” Tony smiled, hoping it would at least crack a grin out of the kid; and it did, a slight smile was tugging on Peter’s lips.

“What do I need to do?” Peter asked, as the code slid onto the screen as FRIDAY pulled it up without request.

“You’re smart. You’ll figure it out,” Tony shrugged, turning to his work. The second his back was turned, he cringed, cursing himself internally, wanting to get over this stupid roadblock that he had with the kid. He wanted everything to go back to the way it was.

Tony fell into the routine of working with the gentle muttering of the kid in the background. Usually he’d give up on his own projects when Peter came over, but he was still stuck on the stupid computer size, not knowing how to make it smaller while still containing the proper amount of memory. He had tried everything except the nanotechnology he used for his suit, because that was expensive and the idea was to make everything easily accessible for the average consumer.

He glanced over at Peter, who was deleting and altering code, adding functions and adding more variables. He seemed to be doing okay, so Tony turned back to his work knowing that he would fail again. He finished the model and ran diagnostics, and when the bright lights read ‘fail’ in the flashing red letters, he sighed and rubbed his eyes. He hit a block.

After a few more trying and failing, Tony was suddenly wrenched from his work when he heard the clatter of instruments falling to the ground. He turned around quickly, and it looked like Peter had pushed off all of the things on the table in anger, as the kid was leaning heavily against the table, breathing hard. The program up on the screen was flashing red.

“Pete?” Tony asked, stepping toward him, cautious.

“I’m sorry, Mr Stark,” Peter said quietly, his eyes scrunched closed as if he was containing something. 

“What for?” he asked, deciding it was safe to approach the kid.

Peter looked up at him like he was stupid, tears brimming in his eyes. “I don’t know what I did wrong!” he yelled.

And that’s when Tony knew he was just frustrated. Because Tony himself had felt like lashing out and throwing everything away earlier, every single time he failed the stupid model, every single time he didn’t know the answer to something. Built up anger, being mad at himself for not solving the problem, being mad at the problem for not solving itself.

“You need a break,” Tony said simply, and with a wave of his hand, the screen cleared itself.

“But what did I do wrong?” Peter asked, drawing out the words, blinking rapidly so that the angry tears wouldn’t fall. “I don’t understand, I deleted something and then the entire program fell, nothing would work!” he brought his fist down on the table,making a dull thunk when it connected with the thick glass. 

“I’ll go through it later. But you- actually, we- need a break,” Tony repeated, gesturing at his own work space, diagrams still all over the place and the hologram model up. “I’ve been trying and failing with that thing, I’m about two more fails away from completely destroying everything.”

“But it’s so much more impressive-”

Tony shushed him, cutting him off with a look. “You’re fourteen. You’re a kid. You’re supposed to be impressed, that’s my job.”

Peter nodded, a smile playing on his face. “I’m fifteen, Mr Stark.”

“Fifteen, Shmifteen. Same thing,” Tony joked, glad to see the smile back where it belonged; permanently stuck on the kid’s face. “How about we do something fun?”

“Like what?”

“I’ll teach you how to build a holographic lightsaber,” Tony grinned, knowing exactly what the reaction from Peter would be. A bright smile, light back in his eyes, jumping up and down and waving arms with grandeur, nearly connecting to nearby projects. Just the way it should be.

And there it was. The kid’s smile, the thing never failed to melt Tony’s heart no matter how down he was.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey  
thanks again holy shit there's been so many nice compliments I love you all  
follow me on tumblr so we can DM and be best friends and cry together  
@emilyofmanyfandoms

Tony Stark did not want to wake up.

Preferably, he would stay asleep forever. Preferably, he would never wake up. The most painless, most preferable, but maybe not the most plausible possibility of him passing away while he was asleep would be Sudden Death Syndrome, but he wasn’t picky. Plausibly but not preferably, his heart would give out; finally succumbing to the many complications due to heart surgeries and having cold metal pressed against it for so many years.

But although it was not preferable, it was very plausible that Tony Stark would continue to wake up.

The light filtered through Tony’s eyelids, forcing him to admit that yes, he was conscious. He wearily opened his eyes, wanting nothing to do with today. It was cold. It was winter. He just wanted to stay in bed and hopefully coax his body into shutting back down and getting back to sleep. 

But even though he specifically had this day always free from meetings and other burdens, Rhodey always showed up to make sure he was okay. And he was, always, okay. But unfortunately, he had to prove he was fine to Rhodey, and that would mean getting out of bed and making something to eat and continue like everything was normal.

Pepper would take care of him in the mornings, then rush off to work. Rhodey would take care of him in the afternoon, extending into evenings, spending the entire morning on the road to get there. Tony, every year, told them both that they didn’t have to take time off or shout their way through traffic, especially considering it was winter and icy outside, but they both showed up nonetheless.

Because today was December sixteenth, and no matter how much time had passed, Tony still felt miserable.

He knew it would be particularly worse this year, considering that this was the first year knowing that his parents weren’t just dead, they were murdered. By his friend’s best mate. And Rogers had known. He had known, and thought that by not telling, he was protecting Tony. 

“Fuck off,” Tony snarled at his thoughts, finally throwing off the covers.

“What’s that?” a voice said.

Tony jumped. “Jesus, Pep,” he said, rubbing his chest where the arc reactor used to be. “You’re going to scare me into a heart attack one day.”

“Who were you telling to ‘eff off’?” Pepper asked, standing up from her spot in the chair beside the bed. 

“The blankets. Since, you know, they were on my legs,” Tony tried, blatantly lying. “And I wanted them off my legs. So I told them to fuck off,” he elaborated uselessly.

“Uh huh,” Pepper nodded, raising an eyebrow but smiling all the same. “You have something against the blankets?”

“Yes. Buy new ones. Ones that listen to me when I tell them to leave,” Tony said. 

“I’ll put in an order,” she smiled, playing along.

“Anyway, why are you here? Don’t you have a super-important meeting like you do every morning?” he asked, knowing the answer already.

“You know why I’m here,” she answered, her voice growing softer.

“I know. And you don’t have to be,” he said, like he did every year. “I’m a big boy now. I’m better.”

“So you won’t go around throwing yourself aimlessly into your work until you set off an explosion and wind up in a hospital?” Pepper raised an eyebrow.

“That was one year,” he argued back, after a pause. “And it was only because-”

“-because you were trying to make something explode, because you wanted to test how much your armour could withstand explosions.”

“Exactly.”

“That’s not reassuring, Tony.”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. He couldn’t stand December sixteenth. Every single year there was a different story to tell, most of which involved hospitals or drinks. Every single year Pepper and Rhodey try to stop him. 

But every year they fail.

“I’ve invited Peter over at one, okay? Rhodey will be a bit busy, and won’t be over until around after that time anyway, so he’ll keep you busy,” she said gently, walking around the bed so that he was facing her. 

“No,” Tony said bluntly, standing up and grabbing her by the elbow. 

“No?” Pepper asked with the air of a know-it-all.

“No,” Tony repeated. “He can’t. If he sees me like, like that, then he’ll…”

“He’ll what, Tony?”

“He’ll, I don’t know. Tell his friends? Tell the world? Tony Stark is still grieving his long-dead parents, can’t he get over it already,” he spat out sourly, shaking his head. “I thought I told you; after Cap, there’s no more trusting. It’s you, Rhodey, and Happy. No more.”

“Do you really think Peter’s going to tell everyone?” she asked, being reasonable.

“No, but I didn’t think Cap was gonna stick his shield in the arc reactor and leave me to freeze, though.”

Pepper just shook her head sadly. “You’ll be fine,” she took his hand, squeezed it loosely, then let it drop to her side. “I’ve already texted him, anyway.”

“Please, Pep. Not him,” Tony was practically begging her by now. “He’s only a kid, he’s fifteen!”

“I’m making breakfast. Be down in ten, or else you’re not getting coffee,” Pepper ignored him, smiling, then she kissed his forehead. “I love you.”

Tony watched her leave the room, his heart falling as he realized what this day, the worst day of the entire year, had in store for him. Pepper. Peter. Rhodey. When had he let this woman run his life? Why should she tell him what to do? He was a grown man. He could control his own life. 

...no, he couldn’t.

Tony Stark was a mess. Tony Stark couldn’t do anything for shit. And as much as he hated to admit it, Tony Stark knew that he needed to let other people in, and if that was the kid, then so be it. 

No. Not the kid. Stop.

He sent a quick text to Peter, then got ready for the day.

\--

“What does this mean?” 

“Dude. The fact that Pepper Potts and Tony Stark both texted you on the same day, that’s confusing on its own,” Ned exclaimed. “Maybe it’s code! They’re inviting you on a mission!”

Peter read over the texts again, not really sure. They were sitting on the floor of his bedroom, a Lego millenium falcon in between them.

_Mr Parker,_  
If it is convenient, please come over to the compound. Mr Stark is in need of company, and unfortunately Colonel Rhodes will not be arriving until later. If you could kindly babysit him until Colonel Rhodes arrives, that would be perfect. Mr Hogan will be picking you up at eleven. If it is inconvenient to you, we completely understand, and please inform Mr Hogan of the cancellation.  
If Mr Stark or anybody else contacts you to inform you that all is well and you are not needed at the compound anymore, disregard that message and come over anyway.  
Yours,  
Pepper Potts. 

“She sounds so professional over text,” Ned pointed out. “It’s like she’s sending an email. If I were her, I would be all; ‘hey, come over after lunch.’ and ‘thanks man.’ and ‘if anyone tells you not to come over, don’t listen’. Who has time for proper grammar and spelling?”

“Miss Potts, apparently,” Peter said, switching to a different chat.

_Hey kiddo-_  
Don’t bother coming over to the compound. All’s good here.  
Tell you what; you should come over next week. We’ve still got to finish that lightsaber of yours.  
T.S. 

“So should I come over anyway?” Peter asked. “Do I follow Miss Potts’s orders or Mr Stark’s?” 

“As much as we idolize Tony Stark, do you really think he has the most common sense?” Ned asked. “You told me that you worked on one of his protocols that allowed his AI to get help if he was literally dying. The fact that he can’t even recognize when he’s in mortal danger is worrying.”

“I guess you’re right. But what if he gets mad and stops talking to me?” Peter asked. “Like before?”

“Don't worry. Pepper Potts is awesome,” Ned nodded. “I bet she’s scary in real life. Is that weird? I bet she could convince Tony Stark to invite you back just like last time. She seems like that type of woman.”

“What, intimidating?”

“Yes. Like my mom,” Ned grinned, then stopped. “Is it weird that I just compared Pepper Potts to my mom?”

“Probably,” Peter said, putting the last piece on the ship. Ned put the Lego Han Solo in the cockpit, and they did their routine handshake whenever they completed something.

“So you gonna go see Tony Stark or what?” Ned asked, leaning back and admiring their work.

“I mean, if Miss Potts is as scary as your mom..,” Peter joked, and Ned nudged his shoulder.

“C’mon, man,” he laughed. “But seriously, you should go. See what he’s up to. Maybe it really is a secret mission!”

“Nah, it can’t be. I haven’t been on a proper mission since that big fight at the airport,” Peter contemplated. “Why would it change?”

“Maybe Tony Stark is in trouble! Maybe Pepper Potts is sending you on a mission to help him, and he doesn’t want you to get involved, because he wants to protect you! But since she knows better, she asked you to help!” Ned said triumphantly.

“She said that I’m babysitting him. Not rescuing him,” Peter pointed out. “And it’s only until Colonel Rhodes arrives.”

“Maybe she needs you to take over the mission until War Machine arrives!” 

“Sure, Ned. I’m off to go save Iron Man with War Machine by my side and a very scary mom-like woman in my ear, giving me instructions in code,” Peter said sarcastically. 

“Exactly,” Ned nodded, satisfied. “And the guy in the chair is only a phone call away.”

“Alright. You convinced me. I’ll disobey Mr Stark’s direct order and go see what’s up at the compound,” Peter shook his head, grinning. 

“That’s more like it!” Ned punched his shoulder playfully. 

“You’re more excited about this than I am,” Peter noticed.

“Yup! Now let’s get onto the most important part of the text; what does he mean by the lightsaber?”

Peter grinned and launched into the story.

\--

With Pepper gone, Peter out of the way, and Rhodey not arriving for another hour, Tony was free to do whatever he wanted.

And that included drinking until he blacked out and didn’t remember anything the next day. He was initially going to hold off on the drinking, because he didn’t want Rhodey to be upset, but then he realized he could just get so wasted that he wouldn’t even remember Rhodey getting upset. And then no harm done. Besides, his friend has seen him do worse; such as the ‘nail polish incident’, that they both mutually agreed to never bring up again.

So he sat in his workshop bar, pouring shot after shot of whiskey down his throat. He felt woozy after four, and now he was on the verge of not feeling anything.

And then the door opened.

“Mr Stark?”

No, no, no. No. 

“What are you, what are you doing here?” Tony said, composing himself as much as possible. “I told you not to come. Why did you come?”

“Miss Potts told me to ignore you,” Peter said, eyeing Mr Stark weirdly. “Are you okay? Happy told me to be careful while we were driving here.”

“I- fuck, kid,” Tony swore, putting the shot glass down and rubbing his hands on his face. “Why are you here?”

Peter didn’t answer, assuming that it was a rhetorical question. He climbed onto the bar stool beside Tony, watching as he poured more whiskey into the shot glass. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Peachy, now that you’re here,” Tony said, raising his glass to toast Peter before throwing his head back. He pulled a face as the drink burned his throat, but savoured it nonetheless. “Do you know what day it is?”

“Uh, I know it’s a Sunday because there’s no school, but, it’s,” Peter paused, thinking. “The eighteenth?”

Tony smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He put the glass back down and grabbed Peter’s shoulder. “Can’t even remember the date. It’s the sixteenth, kid.”

“What does that have anything to do with this?”

Tony didn’t answer, just poured himself another shot. He moved behind the bar to find a kool-aid, why he had it he didn’t know, but he slid it across the bar and it landed in Peter’s hands.

“Oh,” Peter said, finally realizing, removing the straw wrapper.

He remembered, back when he was like, obsessed, obsessed with Tony Stark, he found out that his parents had died when he read his Wikipedia page for the first time. It sort of made him feel like he was even closer to the great Tony Stark in a way, as he had also lost his parents. But he didn’t know that Tony was still grieving, as it happened a while ago, and he whenever any interviewers brought up the subject of his parents Tony completely avoided the question.

“Yeah,” Tony mumbled, putting his head on the counter. “I’m good, though. You should go. Call Happy.”

Peter shook his head. Judging from the way he was acting right now, and the knowledge that Tony had been hurting himself, even if the scars were old, Peter just couldn’t leave him alone like this. He didn’t like the empty look in Tony’s eyes that were usually bright. He didn’t like how he was slurring everything, and how he was dangerously close to falling over. He sat there and sipped his kool-aid, watching as Tony’s eyes got more unfocused with every sip of alcohol. He had never seen Mr Stark lose it, and he wasn’t going to let him.

“You know, whenever I miss my parents, or Uncle Ben, I put on the fourth Star Wars movie,” Peter offered, shrugging. “We should watch it.”

Tony let out a cold laugh, shaking his head. “Kid, this is why I love you.”

“Why?”

“You’re so,” Tony paused, still smiling without emotion. “You.”

“Let’s watch it. Maybe it’ll help you,” Peter said, jumping off of his stool. “I’ll order food. What’s your favourite pizza?”

Tony just rubbed his eyes. “Fuck, I’m drunk. Pepperoni. Cheese. I don’t care. I can’t eat.”

“Then here,” Peter grabbed a glass out of the cupboards and filled it up with tap water. “Drink.”

Tony looked at the glass in Peter’s hand. “I don’t like to be handed things.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Tony searched his foggy mind for an answer, massaging the bridge of his nose. “It’s a, it’s a lawsuit thing. Just leave it on the table.”

Peter didn’t say anything, but he put the glass down on the table. Tony eyed the water reluctantly, but ended up drinking it, first taking careful sips before shrugging and throwing the rest down like he was taking a shot. 

“Boss, I have taken the liberty to order a cheese pizza and set up Star Wars: Episode Four on the screen,” FRIDAY said. “The pizza will arrive shortly.”

“Great. Tell them to bring it here,” Tony mumbled, going over to the sink and throwing water on his face, trying to sober up, but it was far too late. He turned, staring at Peter before blinking twice and shaking his head.

“What?” Peter asked.

“You don’t have to do this,” Tony said, and it was the soberest thing that he had said since Peter had arrived.

“I want to.”

Tony paused, blinking rapidly. He had a lump building in his throat and his eyes stung, but god help him, he couldn’t cry in front of the kid. 

“You okay, Mr Stark?”

“Yeah. Start the movie without me, I’m gonna grab a water,” Tony said quickly, turning around. Peter went over to the couch, pretending not to notice the tears brimming in Mr Stark’s eyes. He deserved some dignity.

Tony stuck his face in the cool air of the fridge, his tears a hot contrast from the cold. He couldn’t do this. He was drunk, he was tired, he was so close to a mental breakdown. But goddammit, the kid just couldn’t leave, and he couldn’t make him leave, and he wants to help, and oh, god. He swallowed a sob and wiped his face on his sleeve, closing the fridge door.

Screw staying remotely sober. Tony grabbed a bottle of beer from the cupboard, not caring if he was known to have rich wine instead, and brought it to the couch. If Peter noticed that Tony had brought alcohol instead of water, he didn’t say anything. 

The pizza arrived a few minutes later, and Peter stood up to get it. Tony just stared blankly at the screen, not really watching, not really caring or paying attention. He pretended not to feel Peter’s worried glances, because it was so much easier. Easier to pretend, to not say anything. He didn’t say a word as the kid opened the pizza box and dug in, ignoring the tentative pushes of the pizza box moving toward him in a not-so-subtle attempt at getting Mr Stark to eat. 

At one point, though, in between the last time Peter has glanced at him and the most recent time, he had started tearing up; his eyes were red and watery, reflecting the scenes on the screen with ease. If Tony blinked just once the tears would’ve fallen.

“You okay, Mr Stark?” 

“God- yeah, I’m good,” Tony lied, bringing his hand up to cover his eyes. He tried discreetly to rub the tears away, but they kept coming back, so he just kept his hand on his face.

“Are you sure?” Peter asked, giving his mentor some metaphorical room and personal space. 

“Yeah,” Tony said again, taking his hand away from his face for just a second, and in that second, Peter caught a glimpse of how heavy and dark his eye bags were, and how wet his face had gotten. 

“Because if you’re not okay, we can talk about it,” Peter offered, feeling very much like an adult.

“Pete- oh Jesus,” Tony shook his head, his voice cracking and thick with tears. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” he said. 

Tony shook his head again, biting his lip to keep him from crying out. It came out a muffled whimper, and Peter put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. That gesture broke something inside of Tony, and he fell apart, making half-hearted attempts at composing himself for the kid, but still ending up with heaving shoulders and an endless supply of tears. Every time he tried to take deep breaths and pull himself together because Peter didn’t have to see this, the kid would do something stupid like try and comfort him and it would make him fall apart again. 

“It’s alright, Mr Stark,” Peter kept repeating, and Tony didn’t deserve to have this kid in his life, he was so fucking grateful and if anything happened to Peter he would kill everyone and then himself.

“Kid, I’m drunk. That’s my excuse, alright?” Tony started, ignoring the way his voice cracked. 

“Excuse for what?”

“For, for what I’m about to say. And even if I don’t remember what I told you in the morning, just know that I mean every word,” he shook his head, finding difficulty bringing the words together in his head. “Fuck it. Peter Parker, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Mr Stark-”

“Shush, kid. Take advantage of this. It’s not everyday Tony Stark compliments someone,” Tony interrupted him. “You make me better. And I’m sorry about that, that stupid thing that I freaked out about, I’m sorry that I didn’t invite you over. Because during those two weeks when I held that grudge, or whatever you wanna call it, I was miserable. Pepper can vouch for that.”

Peter just sat there, soaking in the words.

“You are, the singular, best thing that has ever happened to me,” Tony closed his eyes, supporting his head with his hands. “Did I ever tell you what happened with Cap? His best friend killed my parents. And then I tried to fight his friend, but then good ol’ Cap was fighting me as well, and I never thought I’d needed to fight him. I didn’t program anything for that. It didn’t even cross my mind,” he ended with a soft sob, trailing off. “He left me. In the cold, with a broken suit. He had put his shield in the arc reactor. Funny. My dad made the shield, and Cap’s best friend murdered him.

“Everyone left. And then you came, and suddenly I wasn’t lonely, I had a purpose, and god, I am so fucking grateful for you. Peter Parker,” Tony let out a small chuckle, but it quickly faded. “I am so sorry.”

“What for?”

“All of this,” Tony gestured to himself, opening his eyes. “I’m a mess.”

“You’re okay, Mr Stark,” Peter squeezed his arm. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me too.”

Tony smiled, closing his eyes again. “You say that. I don’t think it’s true.”

“No, seriously, Mr Stark. You made it fun for me. You’re keeping me safe, and you’re helping me,” Peter said softly. “I’m sorry about Mr Captain America.”

“Nothing you could do,” Tony said sadly. “God, I’m sorry. I’m just-”

“It’s alright, Mr Stark,” Peter moved closer to Tony, nudging his shoulder into his side. “It’s nothing you should apologize for.”

“No, you’re a kid. You’re a kid, and I’m word-dumping everything on you, you’re not some sort of psychiatrist, and- oh, fuck. Rhodey’s here,” Tony grumbled, wiping his face with his hands, rubbing his eyes. “I’m not ready for this.”

Sure enough, the doors clicked open and Rhodey walked in; the new braces on his legs gave him almost the same mobility as before. He just couldn’t do the splits anymore, but that wasn’t all too necessary when it came to fighting people in a giant suit.

“Tones,” Rhodey said softly, sitting beside him. “I’d ask if you wanted a drink, but it seems you’re already wasted.”

“M’ fine, not drunk enough. Rhodey, this is Peter. Pete, this is Rhodey,” Tony said, standing up. “I’m getting a drink.”

Rhodey watched him leave, then turned to Peter. “He okay?”

He shook his head no. “He’s drunk.”

“Sorry you had to see that,” Rhodey shook his head. “I’m James Rhodes.”

“Peter Parker,” he extended his hand out and Rhodey shook it, and Peter had to repress his inner fanboy at shaking War Machine’s hand. Just wait until Ned hears!

“Getting all homely? All acquainted? Nice, let’s watch Star Wars,” Tony said sourly, holding another bottle of beer. 

Rhodey let him have his space, didn’t say anything about the red and blotchy face, and Peter followed suit. Even though he wanted the question Tony more about why he really felt that Peter was the best thing that had ever happened to him, he didn’t want to embarrass him in front of Rhodey, even if they were best friends and had probably been through worse.

Sometimes Tony just needed to collect himself.

Sure enough, once the movie ended, Tony Stark was Tony Stark again, not a trace of the vulnerability that he had shown earlier on his face. Sure, he was still heavily intoxicated, but he’d started talking more, making jokes and calling them both ‘sweet cheeks’. It was weird, Peter found, how he could easily change masks around people, but that was Tony Stark. Unpredictable and different for everyone.

“I’m sad. I’m going to bed,” Tony said, waving his hand to shut off the menu screen. 

“It’s four o’clock, Tony,” Rhodey told him.

“It’s sleep or drink. Which do you prefer?” Tony asked, standing up and swaying. Rhodey quickly stood up and caught his arm, steadying him.

“You okay, Mr Stark?” Peter asked, taking Tony’s other side.

“You say that a lot. And I’ve already told you. I'm sad. I’m going to bed. Good night, kid,” Tony slurred, ruffling Peter’s hair. “See you soon. Thanks for coming. You’re the best.”

Rhodey smiled at Peter, leading a drunk and unsteady Tony to the door. “I’ve got him. He’ll be alright.”

Peter nodded, assuming that was his cue to leave. “It was nice to meet you, Mr Colonel James Rhodes.”

“You too, Pete. You’re good for him, you know?”

He nodded, passing them on his way to the door and pressing the button to call the elevator. 

“And Peter?” Rhodey stopped him.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

“It was no problem,” Peter smiled, stepping into the elevator.

\--

_Pete-_  
I don’t remember much from last night, but I remember a lot of Star Wars and alcohol and crying; if you were ever uncomfortable, I’m so sorry.  
Now I have a massive headache and am very hungover, but I just wanted to text to tell you thanks. I know I’m not the best with emotions, so I’m sorry if this comes across as short.  
I love you, kiddo.  
T.S. 


End file.
